That Damn White Shirt
by blockowitz
Summary: If only Brittany hadn't given her that damn white shirt, Santana would have been on that stage. Maybe it was better that she wasn't. Kurtana friendship. UPDATE: I probably won't come back to this for a while, if ever. Sorry guys.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, yeah, this is my first fanfiction not written as a joke. Hopefully it's not total rubbish. And I'm not totally sure of where this is going, so you'll have to bear with me as I muddle through things. There's some alternating points of view, but it should be pretty easy to keep up with. I'll start off with a T rating, because that's probably as high as this will get.

Obviously, I don't own Glee.

THAT DAMN WHITE SHIRT.

Chapter One

Santana was still sitting in the auditorium half an hour after the performance. Karofsky had gone to football practice. The rest of the Glee Club had gone wherever losers spend their afternoons. Like she cared where they went.

_It's not like I can't leave_, she thought to herself.

_It's not like I'm scared to_.

It's just that the auditorium was safe. Santana could just be there, in her shirt. Santana could just be there, in that damn white shirt. Santana could just be there, in that damn white shirt that said Lebanese – like she needed another label. Like she even wanted one.

Santana could just _be_.

It's not like she wanted this for herself. She knew that Karofsky didn't want his lot in life, either. Maybe he wanted to be straight, or maybe he just wanted to be able to accept himself. They were both wishing for something better.

Everyone in Lima was.

Sitting in the auditorium, she could pretend. She could pretend she had that shirt on because she'd been on stage with all of the rest of them. She could tell herself she was beautiful in her way, and that God makes no mistakes.

All of that other bull, too.

Santana didn't realise she was crying until she heard the sobs.

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

Kurt didn't realise that Santana was crying until he heard the sobs.

He'd come back to the auditorium for his jacket. He had thrown it off the stage during the performance - only Lady Gaga could inspire such carelessness with clothing. Especially with that jacket.

Kurt could bring plaid jackets back for the fashion-conscious, he knew it.

Only a few steps into the room he realised that _Santana Lopez_, of all people, was sitting, staring at the stage. For once, she wasn't with some random cheerleader, or Brittany, or Puck.

Or worse, Karofsky.

Kurt wasn't really convinced by all of that "Bully Whips" stuff. He wasn't convinced by Santana's Prom Queen aspirations, either. Sure, she wanted to be popular, but she never struck him as the 'All-American Girl' type. That was much more Quinn.

_And really... Bully Whips? If you're serious about stopping bullying, you do not call your club "The Bully Whips". You just don't._

He figured he'd wait her out - hide in the back row until she'd left, then go get the jacket.

Sure, he'd just finished singing about being proud to be who he was. Sure, Santana hadn't said a harsh word to him since he'd been back at McKinley. But just because she was behind his return to the school, it did _not_ mean she wouldn't still be a bitch when they were alone.

And besides, he really, really wanted to know why she was sitting there.

But now... she was crying. Santana Lopez was crying. In public. Or at least in a public building. A building where anybody could walk in and find her, as Kurt himself had just demonstrated.

He was sure she didn't realise there was anyone else there. There was no way she would be crying if she thought somebody was watching her.

Suddenly, Kurt felt a bit ashamed about hiding in the back row.

Slowly, and very hesitantly, he made his way towards the girl.

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

Santana started to scrub furiously at her eyes, trying to get the tears to stop.

_At least there's nobody here to see me_.

"Santana,"

_God damn it._

"Are you okay? You're crying."

_Kurt. Of course. Who else would find her?_

She turned to face the boy, trying to think of a good excuse for her presence in the auditorium.

And her crying.

"Oh, hey Porcelain," she started in her best 'Bitch' voice.

"I couldn't help but cry, watching that performance of Born This Way. If I'd known it would be that lousy, I wouldn't have come. I missed the after school special at Breadstix to be here."

Not her best excuse.

Kurt looked at her appraisingly. Of course he wouldn't buy it.

"Okay, want to start again, Santana? I could even give you some more excuses: your gay boyfriend just broke up with you, you remembered you were in Glee Club, you accidentally thought about Rachel's fashion sense-"

The boy paused, staring at her shirt. His forehead wrinkled with confusion.

"-your parents told you that you're Lebanese and not Hispanic?"

Santana gave a watery chuckle at the thought of her parents knowing. Although not Ohioans by birth, they were _definitely _Ohioans by nature.

"Please, Hummel. If my parents knew I was Lebanese they'd kick me out faster than-"

She stopped, suddenly aware that she'd said _way_ too much, to exactly the wrong person.

_Oh, God damn it._

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

For Kurt, the realisation was like being slushied again. The cold shock, the thought that you must have done something _really_ bad in a past life to deserve this.

Santana was gay.

Santana Lopez just came out to him. Or, at least, he thought she just came out to him.

_Why the hell did her shirt say Lebanese? So not the point right now._

_Santana_ was _gay._

Santana Lopez. Ex-Cheerios Captain. Former Celibacy Club member. Santana "I've slept with the whole football team" Lopez.

Santana who used to throw icy cold drinks over him. Santana the bully.

Santana was gay.

No, just no. There was no way she could have treated him the way she had, the way they all had, if she was gay.

Glee Club had dismissed what was politely termed "The Brittany Incident". They'd all assumed it was just another of the blonde cheerleader's ridiculous comments, because there was no way that Santana Lopez would sleep with the girl most likely to tell everyone.

There was no way it could be true, because if it was, that made Santana a thousand times worse than Kurt had ever thought she was.

Although, it really made sense. The pinky-linking, the fond glances. The way she'd stood up to Karofsky before the benefit. The way she was now dating Karofsky. The way she looked at Artie, and the way she tried not to look at Brittany. Like things were _real_ now.

Kurt had only been back this long and he'd noticed.

Santana was gay.

And Kurt was _angry_.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I posted the first chapter of this story about 12 hours ago, and I've gotten hits from people as far as Brazil, the Ukraine, and Kuwait. That's pretty mind-blowing. Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to Jits, ocean101996 and md09 for reviewing, and to everyone that favourited the story or added it to their alerts. It's nice to know that you guys are liking my story so far.

We're getting a bit of Mercedes this chapter, and Blaine might be making an appearance soon.

Again, Glee does not belong to me.

THAT DAMN WHITE SHIRT

Chapter Two

_There was no way it could be true, because if it was, that made Santana a thousand times worse than Kurt had ever thought she was._

_Santana was gay._

_And Kurt was __angry__._

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

Santana wanted to run.

She'd just come out to Kurt Hummel, Queen of the Fairies.

Kurt Hummel, who she used to bully for being gay.

It was okay for Brittany and Karofsky to know. They were safe. Nobody would believe Brittany, and Karofsky wouldn't dare to tell anyone.

Kurt could tell everyone.

Kurt could tell everyone and she would _deserve_ it for what she and the other cheerleaders had done to him. Not to mention the football team. All of that pain, and abuse. The daily slushies, the dumpster tosses, all the times they pushed him into lockers.

_I was just like Karofsky_.

Santana could tell the boy was angry. She couldn't blame him for that, she was angry at herself, too. Kurt's face was slowly turning red, and he was staring at her like she was a monster.

_He's staring at me the way he stares at Karofsky_.

She wanted to run, but she knew she deserved whatever Kurt was about to throw at her.

"I always thought you were cruel, Santana, but I didn't think you were that cruel."

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

Kurt regrets every word that comes from his mouth, but he can't stop.

"You, you and your stupid boyfriend! You're pathetic!"

He's shouting now. Why is he shouting? He knows she's scared. He knows what that's like. He doesn't really want to hurt her, it's not in his nature.

But she hurt him first.

"You're horrible! You're nothing! You're a monster!"

_Hold on, that really wasn't in my nature._

It's only when Kurt looks down to find Santana clinging to him that he realises those last few insults were from her. And from the way she's crying, he'd bet his Liza Minnelli CD collection that she was aiming them at herself.

_She hates herself._

Somehow all of the anger drained out of him.

Kurt slowly raised his arms to put around the girl, knowing that he was risking life and limb if she reverted back to the usual 'Lima Heights' Santana Lopez.

He made a mental note to avoid touching her hair. _Who knows if there really are razor blades in there? It wouldn't surprise me._

They stood there for a while. Santana was still holding on to Kurt like she was drowning, and Kurt was feeling thankful that the jacket he had come back for was over some seats at the front of the auditorium, instead of being creased and soaked by the ex-cheerleader.

"Do you," Kurt's voice cracked slightly. Clearing his throat, he addressed Santana again,

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The girl pulled away from him so quickly he wasn't sure she was even touching him in the first place.

"There's nothing to talk about, Hummel."

She sounded like the old Santana. If it weren't for the tear tracks Kurt wouldn't have been able to tell there was anything wrong. Then she started shouting, and the fa_çade was broken again._

"Go on, go tell everyone! We go our separate ways; you tell Aretha about my shirt, she tells her hundred closest friends and bam, you've got your revenge for all the crap I've put you through. Kurt Hummel is back at McKinley, and everyone knows Santana Lopez is a _dyke_!"

The gasp from the door to the auditorium was easy to hear in the silence after Santana's venomous outburst.

Suddenly, Kurt really felt like he was in the middle of _The Bold and the Beautiful_. He could only stare at the intruder.

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Mercedes Jones was getting frustrated. When Kurt said he was going to head back to the auditorium to get his jacket, she figured she'd wait for him by his car. They were going to go to the Lima Bean for coffee after Glee Club finished.

It was like an unspoken tradition they'd had for after a big group number. A visit to the Lima Bean, and then some gossip about Rachel, or Finn, or whoever they resented that week for getting the best solo.

Except Kurt had been gone for a _long _while. His car was the last one left in the school parking lot – if it weren't for the fact that she was leaning against his only transport, Mercedes would have thought that Kurt had left without her.

_Maybe he's just forgotten_, she thought morosely. _He has been away for a while, and we never made plans for this afternoon_.

_No, screw that! Kurt is up to something, and if he thinks he can just leave me out of his plans, he's got another thing coming_.

Mercedes pushed away from the car, and strode back towards the school.

The choir room was the closest place he might be, so she decided to check there first.

It was empty, but there was some sheet music spread out on top of the piano. 'Only the Young' by Journey.

"Oh, hell to the no!"

"Mercedes? Is that you?'

Mr Schue ducked his head out of his office, and gave her a bright smile.

"I see you've found some of my planned music for Nationals! What do you think? I thought it would add a whole new dimension if a group of teenagers was singing it."

"Um, it sounds great, Mr Shuester, but I think we should pick our own music for Nationals," Mercedes edged noncommittally.

"Say, have you seen my boy Kurt around here?"

The music director furrowed his eyebrows, and then shrugged.

"Nope, sorry, Mercedes, I haven't seen him since the performance. Maybe you should try the library, I heard Mrs Johnson in the French department set some killer homework this week."

"Okay, I'll have a look there. Thanks, Mr Schue," Mercedes said.

Catching sight of the Journey sheet music again, she picked it up and shoved it into her bag.

"Also, do you mind if I take this? Thanks!"

Mercedes was already out the door before he could reply, with a triumphant smile on her face. She was going to burn that music.

First, however, she had to check the auditorium.

Just as she was about to enter, she heard voices

"Do you want to talk about it?"

_Kurt? Who's he with?_

"There's nothing to talk about, Hummel."

_Was that… Santana? Okay, WHAT is going on here?_

Mercedes crept into the auditorium, and watched the pair.

_Wait, is Santana crying? Santana Lopez?_

"Go on, go tell everyone! We go our separate ways; you tell Aretha about my shirt, she tells her hundred closest friends and bam, you've got your revenge for all the crap I've put you through. Kurt Hummel is back at McKinley, and everyone knows Santana Lopez is a _dyke_!"

_What?_

Mercedes gasped, causing Kurt and Santana to notice her skulking.

Kurt gave her a long, measuring look, and then turned back to the other girl.

"Well, Santana, it looks like you took care of telling Mercedes."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to MKAmericanhero and ocean101996 for reviewing (again! You're my favourite, now!)

Glee doesn't belong to me. Who would have guessed?

"_Go on, go tell everyone! We go our separate ways; you tell Aretha about my shirt, she tells her hundred closest friends and bam, you've got your revenge for all the crap I've put you through. Kurt Hummel is back at McKinley, and everyone knows Santana Lopez is a dyke!"_

_Mercedes gasped, causing Kurt and Santana to notice her skulking._

"_Well, Santana, it looks like you took care of telling Mercedes."_

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

It had to be a dream, right?

It had to be.

Because there's _no freaking way_ Santana Lopez just outed herself to the two biggest gossips in the school.

_Oh, God. My life is over._

It had to be a dream. That morning, she was happy and excited. She got to wear a shirt that said "Bitch" on it. Really, that was enough to start her day off well. It was an excuse, really. She could be so much harsher to the rest of Glee Club – wearing that shirt, she'd have almost an obligation to be mean.

Just because it was the best part of her day did not change the fact that they were mostly a bunch of freaks. Come on, Hudson has little goblin teeth, and Berry always looks like a thrift store threw up on her.

And then Brittany had to ruin it all. With the look in her eyes, and with her words, and with that shirt. That damn shirt that she was still wearing, because, well, she didn't know why.

_Because she's Brittany and I'm Santana, and I'm in love with her._

Okay, so Santana could admit that to herself, but it did not mean she wanted to admit anything like it to Hummel or his hag.

Speaking of which, they were both still staring at her in shock. Please, like she owed them an explanation. It would only add to whatever they were going to tell everyone. She had to go into damage control, the best way she knew how.

Threats and intimidation. They're kind of her thing.

"Listen Hummel, Wheezy," she started, while cracking her knuckles,

"I'm not sure what you think you're going to tell everyone, so I'm just going to tell you what you're doing next. Nothing. You so much as _imply_ anything you think you know about me, and I go full Lima Heights on you, I mean-"

Kurt cut her off with a simple cough. Santana was caught off guard, and lost the momentum of her speech – nobody coughed when she was talking. Nobody.

She could only stare at the boy as he turned to Mercedes. They appeared to be having some kind of silent conversation. She would shake her head, he'd raise an eyebrow, she would frown, he would ridiculously widen his eyes.

_Britt and I used to talk like that_, Santana thought sadly.

_Before that duet competition. Before Wheels._

Suddenly she felt like crying again. No, she felt like shouting.

"Listen, you don't just cut off Santana Lopez. You cut off Santana Lopez, and she cuts you."

The pair in front of her continued their staring contest, completely ignoring her threats. Santana shut her mouth with an audible _snap_, and huffed, folding her arms.

Mercedes shrugged and sighed, causing Kurt to smile broadly and turn back to Santana. It would seem that he won whatever battle they were having.

"Santana," the boy started,

"Loathe as I am to extend any kind of comfort to a known bully, I will tell you the same thing I told someone in a… similar position to you,"

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

_Karofsky. He hasn't told Mercedes. Interesting._

Santana nodded her understanding, curious as to where this was going. She kept her arms folded, though, not wanting them to think she actually cared about what Kurt had to say.

"I don't believe in denying who you are, but I don't believe in outing, either. Mercedes and I will keep your secret, but some things have to change. I fully support the Bully Whips, despite their ridiculous name and even more ridiculous jackets."

Mercedes snorted, but otherwise continued her uncharacteristic quiet.

"However,"

Kurt paused again, this time to give her a piercing look.

"However, we all know that the Bully Whips are a front. I don't know why you are campaigning so hard for Prom Queen. Quinn will win, despite this week's setback. Irrelevant. I want to know that Mercedes and myself will be free from your harassment: in the halls, in private, and after Prom. Because my name-"

The boy's voice cracked slightly, though he continued to stare unwaveringly at Santana.

"My name is Kurt. Not 'Gay Kid' or 'Lady Face' or 'Porcelain'. And Mercedes isn't 'Aretha' or 'Wheezy' or anything else. If you can say our names when you're out in the halls in that beret, then you can say our names in private!"

Kurt's voice had risen towards the end of the mini-speech, and now he was glaring at Santana challengingly, chest heaving slightly.

_Kurt's not going to tell anyone? He could ruin me. This… this means a lot to him_. _And it means more to me, even though he has me over a barrel either way._

Santana hesitated for a moment, and then came to a decision. She began to speak, carefully, avoiding eye contact.

"Kurt, Mercedes. I-"

She swallowed heavily, and continued.

"I promise that I'll try to be nicer. This is who I've been for years, but I can't make excuses for that any more. I'm trying to change. This shirt is me trying to change. I don't know who I am, though. I don't know who I am without-"

Santana looked straight into their eyes, showing a glint of what made her one of Sue Sylvester's best cheerleaders.

"If you tell anyone – if you tell anyone anything I've said to you, well, I'll let your imagination run wild on that one. Now, if you'll excuse me, _Kurt_ and _Mercedes_, David is about to finish football practice, and we've got a date."

Santana picked up her jacket, which had lain forgotten over a chair, and shrugged it on. It was a casual move, perfect. But she couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she pulled the zip securely over the writing on her shirt.

Trying to pretend that they hadn't all seen her weakness, she moved to leave the auditorium.

"Santana…"

Her name, softly spoken by Mercedes, caused the ex-cheerleader to turn back to the two friends.

The look on Mercedes' face – a mixture of pity and understanding – made the Santana suddenly feel as though all of the walls were closing in on her.

_I can't stay here, I can't_.

"Don't, Mercedes. We're not friends. Please don't."

_Doesn't she understand the word is always there? The shirt doesn't matter._

The steely look was gone from Santana's eyes, replaced by vulnerability, and growing moisture.

Quickly, she turned away from them again, and left.

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Kurt watched the girl leave, and then looked to Mercedes. His friend was still watching the exit. Without turning to look at him, she spoke.

"Did you have any idea?"

"That Santana is a lesbian? No. I thought all of what Brittany has said was a joke, or just wrong."

Mercedes tore her gaze away from the door to look at him with incredulity.

"No, you fool! I meant did you know that she's got it _bad_ for her best friend? Me and Tina have had a bet running since ninth grade about when Santana would admit to liking the ladies, but I didn't think she loved Brittany like that."

Kurt reeled back physically from Mercedes' revelation, and gaped at her. Or gave the closest approximation to a gape that he was capable of making. Class was a pursuit, not something to be gained instantly.

_Why am I the last to know? Does everyone else know?_

"You knew? I thought we had all agreed that Brittany was wrong! How did you find out?"

Mercedes laughed at Kurt, and then moved to exit after Santana.

"Man, you really had no idea? Oh, Kurt, come on, let's grab some coffee. I'll teach you about gaydar. Aren't you meant to be naturally good at that, or something? You sure missed the big one."

She paused.

"And then you can explain to me why we're keeping this a secret. Santana has always been horrible to you. I hope you realise that I'm doing this for you, not her. You'd better have a damn good reason for making me hush on the biggest gossip of the year."

Kurt smiled.

"You go ahead, Mercedes, I'll just be a minute."

The girl nodded her assent, and walked out of the auditorium.

Once he was alone, Kurt let out a sigh, and walked slowly to collect his jacket from the front row.

The boy dusted the jacket off, and then moved to put it on. He paused, and considered the item in his hands.

Coming to a decision, he stashed the jacket in his bag, and walked proudly into the halls of McKinley, shirt and message clearly visible.

As Rachel Berry often said, metaphors were important. 

* * *

><p>AN: I'll try to get another chapter up in the next two days. Things are a bit busy at the moment, plus I'm trying to make chapters longer. Hope you enjoyed this one.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the review, bethaanybitch!

I'm really sorry for the delay. The semester is just finishing at my uni, so there's been a lot of work due. Updates should be happening quickly again now.

THAT DAMN WHITE SHIRT

Chapter 4

Santana quickly got into her car, then rested her head on the steering wheel. She didn't really have a date. Or if she did, well, it was never going to be a real date, and a quick text message kept it from being anything. It's not like Karofsky particularly wanted to pretend to make eyes at her over a table at the Lima Bean.

So she cancelled the date. She had bigger problems at the moment.

_They know, they know, they know_.

Santana leant back into her seat, and then thumped her head onto the wheel a few times. She promised herself it would be the last time she would give any evidence that the conversation in the auditorium even happened. The last time she would appear to be anything but a flawless bitch.

Except for having to actually call Kurt and Mercedes by their names.

"Hey."

Santana screamed, and was halfway out of the car before realising that she recognised the groggy voice coming from the back seat. Feeling foolish, Santana climbed back into the car, and tried to calm her now-rapid heartbeat before turning around.

Of course, when she did turn around her heart raced off without her again. She gave up on her heart, and instead tried to keep her voice steady.

"Hi, Britt. Why were you sleeping in the back of my car?"

The blonde girl didn't answer straight away, instead deciding to climb awkwardly through to the passenger seat. She sat with her back against the door, and gave Santana a hard look before opening her mouth.

"I wanted to know where you were, so I was waiting for you and then I got tired. You didn't come to Glee Club. I thought that you would wear the shirt, and then we'd all be happy and dance. Why are you crying?"

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Santana lost it. She leant her head against the wheel again, and started crying. Why couldn't they all just accept that she didn't go that day? They never cared before about whether she came or not. They never asked her opinions, never wanted to pair up with her for group work.

They never noticed that she paid more attention to Brittany and Artie than to whoever was singing.

"I wanted to come, Brittany. I wanted to come and dance with you and show Artie, show everyone. I wanted to wear that shirt that you gave me, and I wanted to sing Born That Way. But I couldn't. I couldn't sing with you about accepting myself because I don't."

Santana looked up at the other girl, and Brittany could see that Santana's eyes were already red, that her mascara was already running.

_San was crying earlier._

"It's so hard, B. You don't see how hard it is for me because you're so brave. You're so brave."

Santana moved her hand to touch Brittany's cheek, and then paused, inches away. Brittany started to lean towards her hand, so she quickly pulled it back to her side.

_She has Artie. She has Artie and I have David._

"San, you don't have to accept yourself, you just have to be honest. Then you'll see that everyone loves you, and you'll love you, too."

Santana wrapped her arms around herself.

"Kurt and Mercedes know about me. Know that I'm…. Lebanese."

Brittany's face crinkled up in confusion.

"What does that have to do with anything? Besides, I thought you said you were Hispanic. I meant to ask who he is, and why he's panicking. Do you know? Is he your dad?"

The blonde girl stopped, and Santana watched as realisation dawned across her features.

"Oh! You mean they know that you like girls! Mercedes has known for ages. Tina, too. They were making bets about you. You told Kurt, though. That's great, San!"

"Tina knows? Since when has Tina known? Since when has everyone known? Who else knows?"

Santana's breathing sped up, and she found herself clutching the steering wheel again, trying desperately to stay in her seat instead of running, leaving the car and the school and never coming back. Or taking the car, just driving until she didn't recognise the towns, and the towns didn't recognise her.

_I thought nobody knew. How did they all know? Does everyone know?_

Brittany blinked in confusion.

"Only Tina and Mercedes. And me. And probably Brad, too. Why are you so worried? It's Glee Club, they won't tell anyone. They're like family."

She was so innocent. Santana didn't know how to explain that most of them hated her, even though they liked Brittany. They weren't her family, only Brittany was her family.

"You're my family, Britt. Glee Club doesn't like me the way they like you. They hate me for what Quinn and I used to do to them. Remember the slushies?"

Brittany nodded, sadly.

"You'll see, San. If you apologise, you'll see that they do love you. They all think I'm stupid, and they don't realise how much they like you, but they do. I'm smart with them. Just think about it."

Brittany leaned across to the driver's seat, and unbuttoned Santana's jacket. She kissed Santana on the cheek, and then smiled.

"See? I knew you were wearing my shirt. I'm smart with people."

The blonde girl opened her car door, and got out. She paused before closing it again, and leant back into the car.

"You never said. Where were you when you should have been dancing with me?"

Santana blinked away more tears, and laughed weakly.

"I was in the back of the auditorium, watching you guys sing."

Brittany stared into her eyes for a long moment.

"I love you, San. Don't forget that."

The car door shut, gently, and Brittany was gone.

Santana sat in the quiet for a few minutes before letting her tears fall.

She didn't know how long she stayed there. Eventually, she started the car and drove home.

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Kurt and Mercedes exited the Lima Bean, laughing as the black girl recounted her conversation with Mr Schuester. Mercedes pulled the sheet music from her bag, and thrust it towards Kurt.

"Here, you take it. I need an excuse if Mr Schue asks me what I did with it."

Kurt pulled a mock-horrified face, and shoved the sheets back.

"Me? I won't be your accomplice. There are many things I would do for you, my dear, but going to jail just isn't one of them. I'm far too pretty."

The pair laughed even harder, and Mercedes shoved the music back into her bag.

_I guess I'll have to give it to Rachel. That girl would love to get anything that might give her an advantage in Glee Club._

They threaded their arms together as they walked, and Mercedes finally decided to ask the question that had been bothering her all afternoon.

"Kurt, you said there are loads of things you'd do for me, and we're friends, but why are you doing things for Santana? I know she's in Glee with us, and I feel really bad for her, but she's always been horrible to us."

Kurt sighed, unhooking his arm and pulling her to the edge of the street, out of the way of other people. He looked into Mercedes' eyes, showing her a lot of old pain and sadness.

"Mercedes," the boy started, carefully.

"Even before I came out at school, I was getting bullied. The slushy attacks, the slams into lockers, the name calling. You were the first person I told, and that was only after lying and saying that I loved _Rachel Berry_, of all people-"

"You know how sorry I am about your car, right?"

Kurt waved off her anxious apology, and continued.

"What I'm trying to say is, it's always been hard for me. It wasn't that hard for me to be honest about myself, because I couldn't really get any lower in the McKinley pecking order. It's not like that for Santana. She's popular, she doesn't get bullied, and her father is a doctor. No matter how much she puts on the 'Lima Heights' attitude, she can't escape the fact that her family is both wealthy and well-regarded in Lima."

Kurt sighed, and adjusted his hair before giving Mercedes a piercing look.

"She knows that she could lose all of that if she comes out. From what she said to me about her family… I don't think they'll take it very well if they find out she's a lesbian. Maybe she could hold on to her status at school through intimidation alone, but she knows they'll look at her differently. She's scared of what would happen."

Mercedes let out a soft "Oh," of understanding.

"I can't do that to another person, Mercedes. Even if she was partly responsible for the same thing happening to me. Even if she was the only person that treated me that way, I wouldn't do it to her. If it was less serious gossip, no problem, but this is big."

"I know that you don't like what she did to me. I don't like it either, obviously. We have a chance to help her, though, Mercedes. We don't have to be friends with Satan, but we can support Santana."

The girl nodded, and Kurt linked their arms again. They continued walking down the street, laughing about what Mr Schuester would do if he ever ran out of Journey songs.


End file.
